


air currents & bitter regrets

by myvoidedeyes



Series: (we are) lost boys [5]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: AU, Angst, Established Relationship, Found Family, Hemlock Grove - Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Referenced Established Relationship, Regrets, Romancek, Wordcount: 500-1.000, no happy ending, they deserve better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myvoidedeyes/pseuds/myvoidedeyes
Summary: he shouldn't make promises he intended to keep





	air currents & bitter regrets

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to Let You Down by NF while writing this, so maybe give it a listen

There was something incredibly cliché about falling, feeling the air break around his body. It was like being thrown but slower, more inevitable. Sure, he still knew he’d land, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be bruises and aches that awaited him in the aftermath.  
He’d known his whole life that he’d die rough: neither life nor death were kind to his people, especially not Rumanceks. But he hadn’t seen this. He should have, should’ve guessed that, when he’d finally found something worth staying for, something worth ignoring the urge to see what lay on the horizon, he’d lose it faster than he could blink.  
Maybe it was better this way, better it him than them. He didn’t think he could manage it, if the roles were reversed. If he had to watch his partner- in every goddamn thing life threw their way –shatter like he knew he was about to. Didn’t know if there was anything that could keep him sane, keep his mind from cracking and letting the darkness inside win.  
Anything except her.  
He could do this, could accept death, knowing that she was enough to keep Roman in check, just like she would him. In a world where they only had each other, what remained in the face of the never-ending tragedy had to be held tight to, couldn’t possibly be let go of. He should have realized that earlier. Shouldn’t have wasted so much time running from the rib-shattering connection that existed with someone who should have been his opposite. How well they fucking worked in face of that should have been the tip off.  
So much should have been and not enough had been. He could take the responsibility for that. It wouldn’t matter in a few seconds anyway.  
If he could have had a few more hours- hell, a few more minutes –he would have pressed marks into that cold skin, marks to last all the lifetimes he would miss. Would have written a letter to the young woman he’d never meet, kissed her baby soft face, and told them both he loved them. Because he never had, never seen the weight of fucking words when actions spoke so much louder. But now he’d never have the chance, and, if he regretted anything, it was that the words would stay forever trapped in his chest.  
His ears burned, still fuzzed by the ‘pop’ from the sudden drop in pressure, and he felt cold. The wind was loud in that muffled way, and, just above it, something shrill rung parallel to its bitter shriek. If he could have heard better, he would have known it was his name, being screamed in a cracking voice by the blurring figure above him. The figure he watched with streaming, wistful eyes.  
He wished Roman didn’t have to watch.  
There was some instinctive knowledge that the ground was approaching, lingering at the edge of his waning consciousness. So he closed his eyes, pretended that the light pressing into his eyelids was from large, bare windows. That he was sitting on a leather couch, cushions dipped beside him, a too cold hand loosely entangled with his own, and little inquisitive noises, mixed with the jingling of dangling toys, were coming from the ground by his feet That, somewhere beyond his eyes, she was sat, largely unimpressed, on a play mat, batting at the toys with her hands, and, when that failed to amuse, her mind.  
He didn’t feel the impact.

**Author's Note:**

> i was in the mood to write, and also listen to sad songs, so this was born. i originally started writing this series as a sort of happy turn for season 2, but these boys are just made for angst.


End file.
